A Bed of Roses
by Evil Mockingbird
Summary: Madness is like gravity: it's always been there, it just takes a genius to notice. All mortal, OOC. Percy Jackson is a child genius whose family hide a dark secret. His only link to sanity is his cousin, Nico. But what is sanity? "I'm not insane," he says. That's subjective, isn't it? Genius!Percy&Nico, confused!Jason, misunderstood!Annabeth. Full sum inside. Madness, abuse&murder.
1. The Man In The Mirror

**A Bed of Roses**

**This is an AU. I can do whatever I want with the characters. In this, Thalia is lesbian instead of joining the Hunters. All are mortal. Severe OOCness on basically everyone's part.**

**Sorry for any mistakes in this – I'm British, so the grades and other things may be wrong.**

**As far as I'm aware, Vance Middle &amp; High School, Maine does not truly exist.**

**Occasional tense change is intended.**

**Starts late 2014.**

**Synopsis – Madness is like gravity: it's always been there, but it takes a genius to notice it.**

**"I'm not insane," he says - but sanity is subjective. Who's to say he isn't?**

**Genius &amp; schizophrenic Percy, genius &amp; bipolar Nico, misunderstood Annabeth, confused Jason and many more. Murder, abuse, neglect, bullying.**

* * *

_**The Man in the Mirror**_

* * *

**Prologue**

There were many words used to describe Percy Jackson. By his teachers, he was referred to as a young genius, a boy with great potential if only he say more than two words. His peers would describe him as freakish; an outcast. They had never appreciated him. _"He only has two friends,"_ they would say. _"And they're freaks too. Makes sense, I suppose; those that don't fit go together."_ His friends wouldn't say anything. One would shrug, _"It's not my business,"_ he would say. _"Percy is who Percy is."_ The other didn't think you were worth his time.

Percy never described himself as anything. He just looked. He didn't say anything; he stared. He stared with big green eyes framed by thick lashes, his jet-black hair falling into his face. His emaciated arms would be shoved into the pockets of his jeans that were both too small and too big for his long slender legs.

His dad ... _Dad_. The phrase in itself would cause sick laughter to bubble up inside Percy's throat and threaten to escape his constantly metallic-tasting mouth.

_Dad..._

What was a Dad? A father was the person sired you; the person who shared half of your genetics. But a _dad_?

_Dad..._

A Dad was someone you ran up to after you'd painted a picture when you were five years old.

_"Daddy, Daddy, look at what I drew!"_

Someone who paid attention...

_"Not now, Percy, Daddy's busy_._"_

Someone who stuck your picture on the fridge, no matter how atrocious it was...

_"But Daddy, I drew a picture ..."_

Someone who was always supportive of you...

_"It's you, me and Mummy. See?"_

Someone who didn't crush all your hopes and dreams as soon as you voiced them.

_"Why put Mummy in the picture?"_

_"Mummy's still part of the family."_

Someone who encouraged your naivety until the last moment, not crush it as soon as possible.

_"No, Percy. Mummy's gone. She's never coming back and it's all your fault."_

_"But Daddy ... My picture ..."_

A Dad was someone who cared.

_They sat in front of the gas fireplace that night, watching television._

_His father threw a piece of paper in the fire._

_It was Percy's picture._

_Percy watched his stick-figure drawing of his family burn. He watched the edges blacken and curl, and, though he didn't realise it, that was all his family was: the charred remains of childish naivety._

Percy didn't have a dad.

_That night, Percy cried himself to sleep. And, for the first time, he didn't run to his dad about his nightmares._

_It wasn't like he cared anyway._

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Percy Jackson grinned. It wasn't a normal grin for a twelve-year-old. It was an empty grin; a psychotic grin. It lit up his bottomless eyes with a sickly light and infused the premature lines of his face with a dark radiance.

Why was Percy Jackson grinning?

He had what he yearned for.

Burning. Fire. Destruction of the highest order. That was all Percy Jackson craved at that moment.

Burning of what? Destruction of what?

Memories. That was what Percy Jackson wanted to destroy.

Memories of Poseidon, of his mother, of _her._ Memories didn't do anything; all they did was hinder his ability to move forward.

He hadn't had the balls to do this before now. He'd photographed every good memory he could and kept them in a diary. God knew good times were hard to come by in his life.

There were his baby pictures, with him and his mother - he had long ago cut his father out of them. His image didn't deserve to taint them - and others, from later on. There was him and _her_ at Disneyland. _Her_ grinning at the camera, hair flying in her face. _Her_ sitting next to him at his father's wedding to his step-mother Amphitrite. So many of _her_.

There were very few others.

Percy's grin faded as he held another. It contained about the only good memory he had of his father; the only one he hadn't considered tainted as time went on.

What many of Percy's classmates weren't aware of was the fact that Percy was heir to the Olympia family business - a billionaire family that made all manner of products: cigarettes to medical drugs; luxury cruise ships to first-class airlines; top-of-the-line sports gear to some of the most iconic fashion and music items.

What they weren't aware of was the Dark side of the Olympia family.

That being, the incessant and continuous substance abuse of nearly all of them, and their overlarge egos too big to admit it.

Percy's father was no exception; Percy didn't think he had ever seen his father when he wasn't drunk, or high.

This particular memory took place about five years ago, just before Percy turned eight. He didn't remember it well, but he remembered spending about a month on one of his family's luxury cruise ships that were loaded with drugs and hookers with big tits.

For many, the idea of an eight-year-old being surrounded by prostitutes, drugs and alcohol probably didn't seem like such a happy memory, but Percy remembered it more as the time his father had actually cared about him, and paid attention to him.

The contemplative light faded from his eyes as so many other lights did as he threw the picture on the fire. Memories were memories, good or bad. With them, he couldn't move forward.

At least, that was what he told himself, as he watched the only memorabilia he had of the time his father cared blacken and burn.

_No_, he told himself. _Don't think like that. He burned them first, not you_.

It didn't make it any easier.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

As much as he tried, there was one picture he couldn't bring himself to burn.

He didn't know why; it wasn't like he could remember when it was taken. It wasn't like he had any fond memories attached to it. It should have been dumped on the fire with apathy just like all the other pictures.

But it wasn't.

He held it over the fire for a few moments. The flames slowly caught on the end and started to char.

_Drop it_, he thought, _Drop it in the fire_.

His hand wouldn't obey. Instead, it dropped in on the floor and he stamped out the flames. He picked it back up and stared at it for a few moments, cocking his head to the side. Then he shook his head, and slipped it into his pocket,

He kept the treasonous picture in a locked case under a loose floorboard beneath his bed. He was determined to never take it out. He wouldn't look at it. He wouldn't think about it. It would remain there until it was dug up by archaeologists thousands of years from now.

But he couldn't stop thinking about it.

That made him angry. There was so much he just _couldn't do_. He couldn't throw the picture away, he couldn't forget about it, he couldn't _not_ feel an attachment to it and there was no reason for that.

_Maybe it isn't so bad_, said a voice in his head. _Maybe you need that._

Percy shook his head. He didn't need anyone but himself, and that's the way it would stay.

* * *

**Chapter One**

* * *

Jason Grace didn't believe in an afterlife.

Very few people knew this; they generally assumed he carried the same fanatically religious views that his parents did, and he could never be bothered to disprove them. They just weren't worth his time. If they'd had any semblance of intelligence whatsoever, they would've realised that Jason didn't even live with his parents; he was fostered by the Chase family after his parents were sent to prison for murdering their eighteen-year-old daughter (Jason's sister) because she was gay. Jason was only eleven, and he'd been devastated.

It was four years on from then, and (after extensive therapy) he'd finally come to terms with it and accepted his new family.

That didn't mean he liked them though. Far from it, in fact.

Annabeth was the eldest; eleven months older than he was. She was also the biggest bitch Jason knew.

She was a pretty typical prep: intelligent, rich parents, great fashion sense, no shortage of self-confidence and numerous suitors. That is to say: half-decent marks in all but maths, spoilt rotten, wore next to no clothes, was arrogant as fuck and had slept with the entirety of the football at both of her previous schools.

Bobby and Matthew, the twins, were alright. Spoilt rotten, obviously, and incredibly annoying, but alright compared to the rest of the family.

Fredrick Chase was ... unusual, and not in a good way. As arrogant as his daughter, he didn't like to spend time with any of the family (Jason decided to be thankful for that). Whenever he decided to grace them with his presence, he spent it giving unnecessary and unwanted advice on issues that were, quite frankly, none of his business and consequently tearing down everyone's self-esteem.

Helen was ... _Helen_. Jealous, petty, living off of her rich-ass husband, whose only self-esteem came from looking after her children and lashed out at anyone who challenged her way of life.

Jason grimaced to himself and stabbed his piece of steak with his fork. _'__Steak Helen? Again? Can you cook anything else?'_ he thought. He had hoped that, after they had moved from California to Maine, Helen would try the 'new start' thing she'd been going on about for ages.

_Oh, fuck you people_, thought Jason, throwing down his napkin. "I'm going upstairs," he called, already half-way up.

"Whatever," replied Annabeth.

"Have fun," called Helen.

"You should have asked to be excused!" hollered Fredrick.

The twins were too busy building a tent out of cutlery, salt and pepper shakers and a napkin to notice, and they wouldn't have cared anyway.

Jason gave a snort as he closed the door to his room. This was his life. What joy.

* * *

**Chapter Two**

* * *

Nico di Angelo, quite simply, did not care.

Never had, and probably never would. He had stopped caring around age ten, when his sister had died in a plane crash.

Actually, that was a lie. That was when there was truly nothing he cared about left. He hadn't cared about the majority of things since a long time before that.

His family was about as messed up as it got: His uncle and father were both hard-core drug addicts who were violent and neglectful, too caught up in hookers and booze and getting high to focus on their children. His other uncle was marginally better, in a way. Violent and abusive, like the other two, but, rather than cocaine and meth, he used religion and xenophobia. Nico had a half-sister called Hazel, from one of the many times his father had cheated on his mother, but he rarely saw her. His cousin, Percy, had some half-siblings, too: Triton, who had committed suicide at age sixteen, and Tyson, who had severe autism and borderline mental retardation. His uncle Zeus was the only one to stay loyal to his partner, but, upon finding out that their fifteen-year-old daughter was gay, they had killed her in cold blood. The family had paid huge amounts to newspapers and T.V stations all over the world to keep _that_ titbit of information away from the public.

"Mom," he said as he walked in the kitchen, "I'm going to Percy's."

He didn't need to shout, or ask if it was okay. She wouldn't hear properly either way.

She turned to him with half-open, vacant eyes – eyes so similar to his - and nodded.

_Not too high yet, I see._ He snorted internally. _She'll be completely stoned by the time I get back._

Nico and his family had lived in Maine for as long as family history dated back; Zeus and Beryl had made history by moving to Mississippi, reportedly because they didn't want to live in "such a faithless state."

The Olympia family was divided into several branches: Grace, Jackson, Gardner, la Rue, Harvey, Solace, Hunter, Valdez, McLean, Stoll and Trevett. Nico was a part of the di Angelo branch of the family, and his cousin, Percy, a part of the Jackson branch. They weren't technically cousins, more like third- or fourth-cousins, but they were probably closer than most siblings, so _cousin_ was a fair term to use.

The di Angelo mansion was only a few miles away from the Jackson mansion in rural Maine, and took about ten minutes at a jog through the forest. Nico decided to take the long route, though; the one by the river.

The path way rocky and uneven, and the river and surrounding areas home to numerous wildlife. Nico saw ducks, swans, geese, frogs, swallows, foxes, squirrels, and even the occasional badger on a regular basis.

'_How many people actually notice the life around them?'_ he wondered. _'How many people think of the impact they may have?'_

Everyone had impact, however miniscule, and sometimes it was only this thought that kept Nico going through the day. The idea of what he could do, who he could help, the change he could make in this world. It made him wonder how people could throw away opportunities like that; the opportunity to really do something. How people could destroy the perfectly healthy body that they'd been given, be it through self-inflicted injury or drugs.

How people like his family continued to function.

Gripped with a sudden, burning anger, Nico grabbed a pebble nearby and threw it at a nearby family of ducks. They squawked and left.

Nico threw several other objects at random things to release his emotions. The woods were his escape; the one place no-one noticed what he did and no-one cared; the one place he could be himself without judgement.

He pulled his arm back to throw a heavy stone at a rabbit hole across the river when something caught his wrist.

He wrenched his arm out of their grasp and turned, a temporary sense of insanity gripping him, before being met with the apathetic yet warm green eyes of his cousin, Percy.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly at him, opening the hand that wasn't holding his wrist to reveal a smaller stone; one that wouldn't cause as much damage.

"Thanks, mate," Nico muttered, taking it. "You're probably right."

He didn't want to accidently kill a rabbit, after all.

Percy nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"So how are you?" asked Nico, unnecessarily. They both knew that neither of them would be here if they were feeling good. Or anything above average, really. Then again, 'average' for them was far worse than that for most people.

Percy shrugged a shoulder and rocked back and forth on his heels.

Nico nodded. His cousin had barely spoken a word in two years; in that time, Nico had become adept at reading his body language. He was never good at it around anyone else, though; Percy closed off even more around strangers, or even anyone that his wasn't 100% comfortable with.

Despite the one-sided nature of their conversations, Nico enjoyed spending time with his cousin. He never felt the need to fill silence with chatter, he always listened, and he gave the best hugs Nico had ever had – it wasn't really saying much, though; Nico didn't get that many hugs.

Percy grabbed his hand again, and adjusted his position to throw better.

"Thanks," said Nico again. It always went like this: Percy correcting something Nico was doing, and Nico thanking him.

He never got sick of it. It just proved that someone cared enough about him to correct his mistakes.

"School tomorrow," said Nico. "Looking forward to it?"

Percy shook his head.

"Didn't think you would," said Nico. "Still taking those online courses?"

Percy nodded affirmative. He was, for all intents and purposes, a child genius; he'd been offered to skip several grades in one of the best schools in the country, took most of his exams several years early and was currently attending to get education on the ones he hadn't already taken the exams for (for example, he was taking Spanish, Latin and Russian instead of Chinese, French and German). Bored with the 'lack of a challenge' (quote-unquote) he was taking online courses for an MBA at Chicago University's Booth School of Business and worked on the colonization of Mars project at NASA in his spare time.

Nico often had to quash feelings of jealousy when reminded of this; it wasn't as though he had gotten a raw deal in the brains department either; he was in the same year as Percy, having skipped two, and was almost guaranteed a job as soon as he graduated university.

"Apparently Jason's coming back," he said.

Percy nodded pointedly, in an _'I've heard'_ way.

'_Of course you have'_, Nico thought. There was very little Percy hadn't heard of.

"He's got a new family," Nico continued.

"The Chases," Percy said. His voice was hoarse from lack of use.

Nico nodded. "So I've heard. 'Parently the dad is some big-shot university lecturer on history."

Percy cocked his head. "I'd like to study history."

"You'd like to study everything," observed Nico.

Percy smiled, and nodded.

He wouldn't say anything more, Nico knew. He had moments when he would continue a conversation, mostly a few sentences, then it would be back to the old Percy again.

They sat for a while until it got cold. Nico pulled his jacket tighter around him, looking at Percy. He wasn't wearing anything but an old _Led Zeppelin_ t-shirt and jeans.

"We should go," he said.

Percy nodded and got up.

Nico checked his watch. _3:05_, it read.

"How stoned do you reckon our folks'll be by now?" he asked.

Percy looked over Nico's shoulder at his watch.

He caught Nico's eye and pointed upwards.

"Sky-high?" Nico guessed.

Percy shook his head, pointing upwards again.

"Top-layer-of-the-atmosphere-high?"

Percy folded his arms.

Nico rolled his eyes and sighed. "Exosphere-high?"

Percy smiled and nodded.

"Mine or yours?" asked Nico. They always did this; every Sunday they would stay over at the other's house.

Percy cocked his head for a moment, and pointed at himself.

Nico nodded. "Cool."

Percy turned on his heels and started walking towards his house.

"Wait up, man!" Nico called. "We can't all run as fast as Usain Bolt, you know!"

Percy rolled his eyes and beckoned for Nico hurry up.

Nico di Angelo would never say he loved his life, but he definitely loved his cousin.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

The Jackson mansion was bigger than the di Angelo mansion, marginally. It was built in an English country house style, and bore remarkable resemblance to Longleat, in Somerset. There were several acres of land (a right pain to walk through in the morning, let him tell you) with extensive forests, lark lakes and ponds, multiple flowers and even a maze. The interior was closer to The Crocker Mansion, in New Jersey, though.

Nico followed a silent Percy through the imposing front gates and into the house. Collapsed on the couch with an empty whisky clutched loosely in his hand and white powder on his nose was Percy's father. Nico barely paid him any mind; this wasn't out of the ordinary at all.

They crept up several flights of stairs, to the very top floor. The cleaners never bothered with this floor; it didn't look as though anyone lived there. Compared to the rest of the house, the rooms on the top floor were tiny. That was why Percy liked it, Nico knew; tiny meant inconspicuous, and inconspicuous meant no unwelcome attention.

Percy and Nico had a routine whenever they slept over at each other's houses; Percy showered first at night, Nico showered first in the morning. Percy made breakfast, Nico cleaned up. They walked into school together every morning and left together every afternoon.

Nico loved saying at Percy's, because it meant he wasn't taking the responsibility for everything. It meant he had people he loved. It meant no nightmares. It meant no being woken in the middle of the night by a drunk and violent father, or vacant and stoned mother. It meant he wasn't alone.

He loved waking up to hugs and warm food. He loved how Percy's body heat was nothing like his house, where his father could never be bothered to turn on the heating. He loved his cousin.

Nico fell asleep smiling.

* * *

**Chapter Three**

* * *

Jason Grace was stopped by his older foster sibling on the stairs before school on September 15th. She had managed to make the female uniform for their school look more revealing than the majority of things in her wardrobe; the dark grey skirt was so short it was almost invisible under her blue blazer, her white blouse had the first three-or-so buttons undone, showing off more than a fair bit of cleavage, and she had already put ladders in her tights.

"You can't come in with me," she said bluntly.

Jason, startled at the sudden assault, asked, "What?"

"You–can't–come–in–with–me," Annabeth repeated slowly.

Jason stared at her blankly. "I'm your brother."

"My thick brother, apparently," she sneered. "And, like it or not, you will _never_ be a _true_ part of this family."

Jason levelled an icy cold glare at her. "I don't want to be a part of this family anyway."

He carried on downstairs, and walked out of the door without any breakfast.

"Get back here and have some breakfast young man!" he heard Helen shout as he left, but he paid it no attention.

He held back tears as he walked towards school. He didn't like the Chases, not in the slightest, but he'd always wanted a family. His older sister had been the best thing he'd had, and now she was dead. He'd heard about his father's family, but he couldn't remember them.

"I don't want my son mixing with such godless sinners as them," his father had justified.

'_Better godless sinners than holy murders,'_ Jason thought, but he hadn't said anything.

To just be rejected like that from the only possibility of family he had was … upsetting, to say the least.

He arrived at Vance Middle &amp; High School much earlier than he'd thought he would; about half-past seven. He didn't know what to do or where to go, so he sat moping in the hall for a while.

After a while, maybe five or ten minutes, a pair of black Chuck-Taylors came into view.

"You okay mate?" asked a male voice.

Jason looked up. "Yeah, fine. Just moping about, y'know?"

The boy, who had black hair, dark blue eyes and looked to be about twelve, gave a slightly twisted smile. "I know _all_ about moping around."

Jason laughed. He nodded at his feet. "Are Chuck Taylors included in the dress code?"

Vance High School had a mandatory uniform (white collared shirt, black or dark grey trousers/shorts, blue blazer, optional blue jumper, white or black ankle socks and black shoes for the boys and similar for the girls), and Jason doubted they allowed Chuck Taylors.

The boy shrugged. "Dunno. They never check, though. I'm Nico, by the way." He gestured behind him. "This is my cousin, Percy." Jason just made out a slightly taller figure standing a few feet away.

He got up and extended his hand. "Nice to meet you."

Percy grabbed his hand and gave it a firm shake, nodding his head in greeting.

"He doesn't talk," said Nico.

"Really?" asked Jason. "What happened?"

Nico laughed, and Percy cracked a smile.

"_Doesn't_, I said. Not _can't_."

"Oh," said Jason. "I feel like an idiot."

"We're all idiots here," said Nico happily.

Percy looked at Nico pointedly.

"Well," Nico amended, "except for Percy here. But he makes Albert Einstein look like an idiot."

"Really?" asked Jason. "Do you know your IQ?"

Percy nodded.

"What is it?"

Percy held up two fingers.

"A hundred and twenty?"

Percy shook his head and gestured upwards.

"Two hundred?"

He gestured upwards again.

"Two hundred and twenty?!" asked Jason incredulously.

Percy nodded.

"We can show you 'round the school if you want?" Nico offered.

"I'd appreciate that," said Jason, smiling.

As Nico chattered away, giving Jason a basic history of the school and a briefing on everyone and Percy rolled his eyes, Jason felt more at home than he had in his two years in the Chase household.

He smiled.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Jason was in Nico's maths class.

He was slightly surprised by that; Nico was two years younger than him, why would they be in the same maths class? It soon became clear that Nico was almost as much of a genius as his cousin allegedly was.

"How on earth did you get that?" asked Jason. "Surely _x_ should equal fifty-six, right?

"Nope," said Nico. "Look, there's a negative here, and you divide _b + a_ by two, not just_ b_. And _ac_ is multiplied by ten, not …"

He went on to explain, in almost excruciating detail, all the places Jason had gone wrong.

"Why does it matter?" muttered Jason irritably. "It's not like I'm actually going to use this!"

"Actually," Nico said, "algebra has tons of uses. Mostly it just teaches you to think logically, but it's the basis for things like rocket science. If you want to work at NASA, you need to be good at algebra."

"Do _you_ want to work at NASA?" asked Jason.

Nico smiled. "Already got an offer. They'll pay for my uni fees for Massachusetts or Cambridge to study astrophysics, and, if I graduate with a GPA higher than 3.67 or the equivalent, I can work there immediately."

"Dang," said Jason. "Now I'm jelly."

"Don't be," he said. "I just have nothing better to do with my life."

"Most twelve-year-olds haven't been given that kind of opportunity," said Jason.

Nico hummed. "I just put a lot of effort into my studies," he said carefully. "For number five, did you get negative forty-nine?"

Jason turned back to his book, saying that he hadn't done question five yet.

"What does Percy plan on doing?" he asked.

Nico laughed. "It doesn't really matter. With the qualifications he's got now, he could get a six-figure salary, easy."

Jason frowned. "What qualifications?"

"He had been accepted into most of the Ivy League universities by the time he was my age. He took online courses for Chinese and German at Middlebury College and graduated with a 4.0 GPA two months ago. He's taking an MBA at Chicago University's Booth School of Business right now."

"Impressive," muttered Jason.

"Yup. For ten, did you get –?"

"I haven't done ten yet."

"Oh. What are you on?"

"Four."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Jason got back to work.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Jason was late to lunch that day.

His Head of Year, Mrs Bell – a strict yet kind-looking women with highlighted blonde hair in about her mid-forties – had wanted to talk about what he thought of the school so far.

"Have you made any friends yet?" she had asked.

Jason had shrugged. "I made acquaintances of a sort with two boys: Nico and … Percy, was it? Does he ever talk?"

Mrs Bell had winced. "Quite frankly, no. He refuses to ask questions or answer them except in written form. The only time we hear him speak is in oral exams for languages, and they only happen two or three times a year."

"Oh," Jason had said. "Pretty smart, aren't they?"

Mrs Bell had nodded. "Best students in the school, no question." She'd caught his eye jokingly, "But you mustn't tell anyone I said that. It goes against my policy of being unbiased."

"Your secret's safe with me, ma'am."

"It's Mrs Bell, Jason," she had said. "We don't use 'ma'am' and 'sir' here."

Jason had nodded, and left for the lunch hall.

It had taken him a while to find his two new friends, and he had a fleeting moment of thought on whether they were even there. It was quarter past one now, and lunch had started at five to. They could've eaten in the rose garden, too, or had lunch later. Maybe they'd had a club. There were so many options.

A few minutes later, Jason spotted the two at the very back of the lunch hall, near the prep tables. They weren't eating; Nico had a half-eaten sandwich in front of him, and Percy was tossing an apple in between his hands. They looked to be playing a game of chess.

"Can I sit with you guys?" asked Jason.

Nico looked up from the board. "What? Yeah, sure. What makes you late?"

"Had to speak with Mrs Bell," said Jason, taking out his lunch.

"What did she want?"

"Just to know how I was settling in at the school 'n' stuff." Jason started to eat his sandwich. He looked at Nico's barely-touched lunch. "Aren't you going to eat something?"

Nico shrugged. "Not hungry."

Percy coughed lightly and gestured back to the chess board.

"What? Oh yeah. Sorry cuz." Nico moved his queen five spaces to the left. "Check."

Percy moved his rook to take the queen and smirked triumphantly.

"I've been checkmated, haven't I?" asked Nico, and Percy nodded. He sighed. "I knew it was coming anyway. I haven't won a chess match against you since … well … forever."

Percy took a bite out of his apple and shrugged in a _'No-one has'_ way.

Jason scoffed his lunch in five minutes, while Nico just played with his and started a rematch with Percy, who took a few more bites out of his apple before throwing it away.

Jason checked his schedule. "I've got physics next. Have either of you?"

Percy raised a hand.

"You in my class?"

Percy shook his head.

"Percy takes all sciences and math with the Sixth-Formers," said Nico. "He's just a wiz like that, y'know?"

Jason nodded, but thought _not really_. "What do you have?"

"Um … Let me check … Oh, wait … I do have physics. Then I have music."

"Do you enjoy music?"

Nico shrugged. "Meh. Kinda. It's just sorta _there_, y'know?"

Jason nodded again, although personally, he greatly enjoyed music, and it was more than just 'sorta _there_' for him.

"Is it the end of the day then?"

"Yup," said Nico, popping the 'p'. "Two lessons then break, then another two lessons followed by lunch, then two more lessons before we go home. One full day, quarter to nine to quarter to four."

Jason nodded. "Cool. What do we do for the next … forty-five minutes-or-so of lunch?"

Nico shrugged. "Percy and I just generally hang out in the library." He looked around. "Speaking of Percy, looks like the bugger's gone and given us the slip. Wanna help me find him?"

"Yeah, sure," agreed Jason.

Nico promptly took off towards the library. "There are several libraries in this school," he explained as they walked. "You've got the Einstein Library – that's the non-fiction one – the Gates Library – computers – and the Rowling Library – fiction books. The computers in the Gates Library are for homework and research and only that. You've got to be quiet in the Einstein Library, and the top floor of it is reserved for Sixth-Formers only. If you want to talk while you do your homework, you go to the Rowling library. Those are the major libraries, but you've got the Careers Library, the Science Library and the Tutoring Library too. _Capisce_?"

"_Capisce_?" asked Jason. "What does that mean?"

"'Do you understand?'"

"No, that's why I asked you what it meant."

"No, _capisce_ means, 'do you understand?'"

"Oh! Yeah, sure."

"Good." Nico smiled.

The Rowling Library was very homey. It had posters of books up on the walls (Skulduggery Pleasant for the boys and Twilight for the girls), a display with '6TH GRADE RECOMMEND [INSERT BOOK NAME HERE]' '7TH GRADE RECOMMEND [INSERT BOOK NAME HERE]', '8TH GRADE RECOMMEND [INSERT BOOK NAME HERE]', and 'FRESHMEN RECOMMEND [INSERT BOOK NAME HERE]' near the door, four computers, a circle of comfy-looking chairs, and several large tables surrounded by chairs, perfect for doing homework. The shelves were set to the right of the library, and the door to the next room was set between the two farthest-right shelves.

Nico walked through said door into the Gates Library. There were four rows of computers: two to the right of the door and two to the left. A large desk was straight in front of him and, to the left of the desk, was another door. Nico walked through that door, too.

It lead to the biggest of the three libraries Jason had seen: half of the room was dedicated to large desks and chairs, and the other half was case upon case of books. There were padded benches in between the rows of shelves.

The half with all the cases has another floor over it, which contained several more desks and book shelves.

Nico went over to the stairs leading to the upper floor. Jason assumed Nico was going up them, but instead he went over to the row of shelves tucked underneath. Unlike all the others, which were straight shelves, the one under the stairs curled in an L shape. Tucked up in the corner of the L, with a copy of _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_, was Percy.

Nico sat down next to him, close, resting a head on his shoulder.

"I thought you'd left me," he teased gently.

Percy took an arm away from his book and wrapped it round Nico's shoulders, shaking his head.

He looked up and caught Jason's eye.

Jason wasn't sure what to make of Percy. Nico was nice, but Percy … he couldn't get a reading on him. Despite that, he got the distinct impression that Percy didn't want him there.

He walked over to one of the desks and got a start on his math homework.

Neither Percy nor Nico acknowledged him until the end of lunch, and only then to show him where the physics classroom was.

Jason went home, unsure as to whether or not he'd made one friend, two, or none.

* * *

**Chapter Four**

* * *

'_Worthless.'_

'_Scum of the earth.'_

'_No-one loves you.'_

Cruel voices were whispering in your head. Constant; unending; unyielding.

'_Stop,'_ you tell them.

'_I don't listen to undeserving wretches like you,'_ a voice responds.

'_Don't deserve us,'_ one whispers.

'_You should be thanking us,'_ comments another. _'You would never know the truth without us.'_

'_What would make me better?'_ you ask.

'_You could _never_ be better,'_ says a voice harshly.

The room feels cold. There is condensation on the mirror in front of you. You reach out, drawing pictures absentmindedly.

'_Why not?'_ you say innocently.

'_You don't have the guts,'_ sneers a voice contemptuously.

It always went this way, every time. You agreed with them, every time they said that. You _didn't_ have the guts, you ran away from them, hid everything with alcohol and cocaine and meth and all types of poison imaginable.

You aren't insane. You aren't.

You run off towards the liquor cabinet.

By three that afternoon, you were passed out on the sofa.

It was routine by now; a never ending cycle.

An eternal life of destruction.

* * *

**Chapter Five**

* * *

Nico thought Percy was unusually cold on the walk home that day.

"Percy?" he asked. "Are you … okay?"

It was a stupid question; Percy was _never_ okay. Neither was Nico. They simply _were_.

Percy shrugged a shoulder.

"Is it Jason?" asked Nico.

Percy paused a moment, then pulled a _'sort of'_ face.

"I thought you'd be happy to have him back," said Nico. "He's family, you know."

"No," Percy croaked. "Not anymore. He has a new family."

Nico paused for a moment; Percy had rarely said that much at once before.

"He's our _cousin_," he said. "We can't just abandon the only family we have!"

Percy's eyes hardened. "_He_ abandoned _us_," he stressed. "He doesn't recognise us; haven't you realised? He doesn't have time for us."

Nico shook his head violently. "He's _family!"_

"No. _You're_ family. _My father_ is not family. _Your father_ is not family. We're related; we are not _family_. Jason made that pretty clear!"

"It's not –!"

"He has a new family," Percy said apathetically. "He doesn't want us, he doesn't need us. He seems perfectly happy with the Chases."

Nico looked up at his much taller cousin, and came to a realisation.

"It's Annabeth, isn't it?"

When Percy's eyes blazed with anger, Nico knew he'd said something he shouldn't have, and cowered. He'd had a lot of practising of that; cowering.

Percy grabbed Nico's hair and wrenched his head back, so that he could look him square in the eyes. "What did you say?"

Nico gulped. "Nothing."

"I _thought_ we had an agreement. We _do not_, I repeat, _do not_ mention her!"

Nico nodded hastily – well, as much as he could, with his head being wrenched back. "I'm sorry."

"You should be," said Percy threateningly. He let go of Nico's hair with a small – read: staggering – shove.

He glared at him, and not another thing was said between the two for the rest of the two-hour walk through the forest.

When they reached a fork in the road, Nico paused. Left from here would be towards his house; straight on would be to Percy's.

Nico turned to meet Percy's hard gaze. Silently, angrily, the elder genius gestured left.

It was a clear dismissal.

"Bye Perce," Nico said.

It was a last ditch attempt at a _maybe_ make-up. Percy always gave him a hug at the very least when Nico had to go home, often choosing to walk with him. Nico didn't have high hopes, but he just wanted a smile.

Percy's flat gaze didn't change, and he walked towards his own house without a word.

Nico walked sadly back home.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

When it got cold out, and he didn't have anyone to chat aimlessly to in order to distract himself, a single tear slipped down Nico's face.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

When he started to throw stones at the river, and no-one came to correct his horrid style, or offer him a lighter stone, Nico started to cry.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

When it turned out that his father managed to _not_ drink himself into oblivion, but merely a violent rage, Nico curled into a ball and sobbed.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

When there was no-one to help him pull out the smashed remains of a beer bottle from his shoulder, Nico felt despair clutch him.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Nico pulled himself onto his bed, and stared at his phone.

The shiny screen of the yet-to-hit-stores iPhone 6 reflected his battered, tear stained face.

Should he, should he not?

_Oh fuck it_, he thought, calling the only number he had saved on his phone.

Once it rang … twice …

Answer machine.

Nico cried himself to sleep that night, and never wanted to wake up.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Nico waited as long as possible at the fork in the road for his cousin before it became apparent he either wasn't showing, or had set off early.

Sighing, he got up and walked to school alone.

* * *

**Chapter Six**

* * *

Jason ambushed his sister when he got home that night.

"So," he said, leaning against the doorframe of her bedroom, "how was your first day?"

"All right," she said, shrugging.

"Fuck anyone?" he asked, overly-innocently.

"Fuck you!"

"Really? I don't recall we ever did. Wouldn't put it past you to try, though."

"Get out of my room, Jason," she said threateningly.

"Oh is poor Annie upset that she didn't get a new fuck-toy," said Jason in a baby voice.

"At least _I_ made friends with people who _weren't_ complete losers," she sneered.

"Really?" he said sarcastically, leaning forwards. "By whose standards?"

"They're infamous 'round here!" she continued, a triumphant tone edging its way into her voice. "Their parents are wasted and/or high basically all the time, and they apparently have some –," she lowered her voice, "– _issues_."

"You have issues," he observed. "Does that mean _you_ don't deserve friends? Wait, don't answer that. I already know the answer."

Annabeth flipped him off.

Jason smiled and walked out.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

"So," said Fredrick Chase at dinner, "how was everyone's first day of school?"

Bobby and Matthew shrugged. "All right," they said in unison, continuing to flick peas at each other.

"Good," said Annabeth, smiling.

"Okay," said Jason, shoving his food in his face.

"Elbows off the table Jason," Helen scolded.

Jason shrugged and took his elbows of the table, but didn't slow his food intake.

"Make any friends?" Fredrick continued.

"Mmhmm," said Jason.

"Yes," said Annabeth.

"And what are their names?"

"Guy called Luke," said Annabeth. "He has a girlfriend named Tami. There's Charles Beckendorf and his girlfriend, Silena Beauregard. Um … Chris Rodriguez, too, and Jake Mason, Lee Fletcher and Michael Yew."

"Good," said Fredrick, nodding. "What about you, Jason?"

Jason shrugged. "Just two; Nico di Angelo and Percy Jackson. Vance High's resident geniuses."

Annabeth wouldn't say anything bad about them, he knew; she had a reputation with her father to keep up, one of a perfect little princess.

"Do _try_ to be social, Jason," said Helen. "I'd _hate_ for your life in this new school to be like your old one."

Jason grabbed his fork tightly. He'd gone to a school for juvenile delinquents before moving here. He'd had only two friends there, too; Piper and Leo. In hindsight, they seemed fairly similar to Nico and Percy – they were all intelligent yet quiet, and didn't like to talk about their home lives. Piper barely said anything, but Leo chatted constantly.

Jason just seemed to be drawn to those kinds of people.

He'd hated having to leave them. Leo and Piper were full-time boarders at the Wilderness School, whereas Jason came home on the weekends. As a result, they only got phone privileges once a week, and they always used it on their families. Jason hadn't spoken to them in months.

He continued piling food into his mouth, ignoring Helen's scolding about not eating so fast.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Jason got to school early again, and went to the library. It was only about five to eight, so very few people were in the Rowling Library. School wouldn't officially start for another hour and fifty minutes.

Jason scanned the shelves for books, and eventually settled on _Jane Eyre_.

Yes, Jason liked Charlotte Brontë. No, you couldn't tell anyone.

Jason looked up, startled, when the library door opened.

"Hi Nico," he said, recognising the figure. He frowned. "What _happened_?"

Nico's face looked … well … awful, to put it simply. He had a black eye, a swollen lip and multiple cuts. It looked like it pained him to move.

Nico glared at him. "Just go away, Jason," he said, walking towards the Gates Library.

"What have I done?" Jason called after him, confused.

Nico just kept walking.

* * *

**Chapter Seven**

* * *

Nico felt bad about snubbing Jason. He really did. But, in a sense, Percy was right. Jason _had_ left them, he _still_ didn't recognise them. He wasn't acting like family.

Nico still thought Jason deserved a place in their family, of course, but, when asked to choose between Percy and Jason, it was a simple choice.

"Percy?" he whispered. There were never usually people in the Einstein Library at this time, but it felt wrong to disturb the quiet.

Percy looked up flatly from his copy of _The Complete Works of Shakespeare_, but his expression changed from _'go away'_ to _'oh my God what happened?'_ Percy immediately grabbed Nico's wrist and sat him down on the floor next to him. He reached into his bag and pulled out a medical kit.

Nico smiled wryly at this. _'Shows how fucked up our lives are that we carry first aid kits with us.'_

Percy looked at him with concern as he cleaned a half-healed cut on Nico's right cheekbone. _'What happened?'_ he seemed to be asking.

Nico cleared his throat. "My dad."

Percy nodded. A few minutes later, Percy pulled him into a hug and kissed his forehead. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely.

Nico shook his head. "Not your fault," he replied.

"You wanna go to the nurse?"

Nico shook his head. "They'd just get suspicious."

"They're gonna be suspicious anyway, Nick."

Nico wrapped his arms around Percy's waist. "I just … Maybe they'll call home if I go to the nurse. If I say they already know 'n' stuff, that it's fine, they'll leave it."

Percy buried his face in Nico's hair. "If you need me though … don't hesitate to come get me, okay?"

Nico nodded.

"You're staying at mine tonight," Percy said. "No objections."

Nico grinned and nodded again.

* * *

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Jason's arrival in maths went unacknowledged by Nico. Jason tried not to get offended, he honestly did, but he wasn't sure what he had done wrong.

"Nico?" he asked. "Have I done something wrong?"

"Everyone does wrong things," said Nico stiffly. "It's a part of human nature."

Jason frowned. "I know _that_, but -,"

"Then why did you ask?"

"You didn't let me finish!"

"Then finish."

"I – you – what?"

"Finish what you were going to say."

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Have I done anything in particular wrong –,"

"I've already -,"

"Let me finish!" Jason said irritably. "Have I done anything in particular to make you angry with me?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Stop deflecting!"

"Answer my question."

"When you answer mine."

"I don't want to answer yours."

"Then I won't answer yours."

"Fine." Nico turned back to his book.

Jason mimicked the action, sighing angrily.

"You all right dude?" asked the person behind him.

Jason turned. "Yeah, fine."

The boy, who had dark hair and looked Japanese-American, smiled. He was chewing gum, Jason noticed. "Don't mind di Angelo," he said, lowering his voice, so the teacher couldn't hear. "He doesn't care for people."

Jason felt Nico stiffen beside him.

"That's right, innit ya freak?" he said, smirking. He reached out and pulled Nico's chair out from under the smaller boy.

Nico fell off, hitting his already black eye on the edge of the desk.

Miss Hoban, the math teacher, turned at the sound. "Nico!" she exclaimed. "Are you okay?"

Nico nodded. "I'm fine, Miss."

"What happened?"

"Nothing, Miss."

Nico got back onto his chair and continued with his work.

Miss Hoban frowned, obviously still concerned. "Are you hurt?"

"No more than I already was, Miss," said Nico, smiling wryly.

"Do you want to go to the nurse?"

"I'm fine, Miss. Honestly."

The teacher chewed her lip, disbelieving, but not wanting to push the issue. "If you're sure."

"I am, Miss."

She went back to her desk.

"So," Ethan asked, as though he hadn't just made Nico worsen his already black eye, "you wanna sit at our table today?"

Jason hesitated. He didn't want to sit with a bully, but he didn't want to be bullied like he had been at his old school. Was it worth making his own life hell for someone who didn't even seem to want to hang around him?

"Sure," he said.

Ethan smiled. "Great! I'll see you at the lunch hall, five to one?"

Jason nodded and turned back to his work.

He pretended not to notice the betrayed look of the boy beside him. After all, Nico had betrayed him first.

Right?

* * *

**Chapter Nine**

* * *

Kay Hoban prided herself on several things:

One was being good at mathematics.

Another was being a sympathetic, understanding teacher that students felt they could turn to.

Several teachers had come to her with problems in the past, from homework to friendship groups to trouble at home, and Kay felt it was her duty, as a teacher, to find out these things and help her students.

Nico di Angelo was no exception.

"Nico?" she said as the students started to pack up. "Can you stay behind for a moment, please?"

As everyone started to leave, Nico leaned against his desk, shoving his hands into the pockets of his dark trousers. He looked nervous.

"Are you sure you're okay, Nico?" Kay said, in what she hoped was an understanding voice.

"I'm _fine_, Miss. Honestly." The smile Nico gave her would have been charming, but the effect was ruined by his swollen lip and battered face.

"How did this happen?"

He shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck. "I … um … I don't …"

He was interrupted by a small cough at the door.

Standing in the doorway was a tall boy with messy black hair and green eyes.

Kay recognised him. Percy Jackson was quite the enigma in the school; by far the most brilliant to ever attend, he skipped several grades in most subjects and was taking several more. Kay herself had never taught him – she only taught up to sophomore year, and Percy took senior level math, however she had heard he was excellent at math. By far the most infamous thing about him though, was his refusal to say a word, except in language orals.

"Hey Percy," said Nico, sounding relieved. "Miss Hoban, can I please …?"

"No you may not," said Kay, frowning in disapproval. "Would I be right to say that Percy here would know how you got these injuries?"

Percy kept silent, and Nico refused to meet her eyes.

"Miss …" He sounded desperate now. "I have a lesson now and I'm late enough as it is …"

Kay's frown deepened. "Fine. But we _will_ talk more about this."

Nico nodded hurriedly. "Of course. Bye Miss!"

He all but ran out of the door, closely followed by Percy.

Kay sighed and went to her next lesson.

* * *

**Chapter Ten**

* * *

Jason was in the same Mandarin class as Ethan.

"So," he said, popping his chewing gum, "where you from?"

"California," Jason answered.

"Pretty warm up there, innit?"

"Yup."

"Big change from down 'ere."

"I was under the impression Maine was further north than California."

Ethan frowned. "Whatever dude."

"So," Jason said, trying to make conversation, "what's your favourite subject?"

Ethan chewed his gum thoughtfully. "Dunno. P.E, probs. You?"

"I don't know what it'll be like in this school, but I like music the most."

Ethan looked at him oddly. "Oh. You're one of the band geeks, aren't cha?"

Jason furrowed his eyebrows. "No, not really. I enjoyed music class, but I never did anything extra-curricular that was music related. I was a lot more sports-orientated in that."

Ethan nodded. "Ah. All right then."

"Why?" asked Jason. "Is there something wrong with liking music?"

"No, no," said Ethan. "It's just … well, band geeks aren't fun to hand around."

"How so?"

"They don't know how to have _fun_, y'know?"

Not for the first time, Jason found himself nodding, despite thinking, _'no, not really'_.

Jason found it hard to concentrate in Mandarin. Ethan didn't seem to understand that, yes, Jason was actually interested in learning this language, and didn't want to compare boob sizes of the girls in the class.

Jason hadn't even gone two lessons without sitting near Nico, and he already felt he was going insane.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Jason sat with a large group at lunch that day.

It was different to sitting with Percy and Nico, and not in a good way. Jason didn't like attention; it had always meant getting preached to and insulted in his childhood. He much preferred to be left alone. The table this large group sat on was a long one near the centre of the cafeteria. It was long and rectangular, and one of the shorter ends was pressed against a wall. Jason wanted to sit there, to fade into the off-white paint, but couldn't. He had to sit in the centre.

Jason knew a few people there: Ethan, who was in his Mandarin and math class, sat directly to the right of a boy with short blond hair and blue eyes – Luke, Jason thought he was called. No doubt his sister's next fuck-toy. Speaking of his sister, she was sitting on the other side of Luke, looking as smug and overly-sexual as always. Chris Rodriguez sat next to his sister, reminding Jason of what Leo may have looked like if he had grown up in a different environment – they had the same sharp features and mischievous grins, and looked to be Hispanic/Latino. Jason didn't know the rest of them, but he assumed he'd learn who they were eventually.

Luke smiled at him. It wasn't a comforting smile. It was more … predatory.

Jason gulped, and sat down.

* * *

**End Part One.**

* * *

**So … Love it or hate it? Kind of a plot bunny that was jumping around in my head … if you've read **_**The Sharpest Lives**_** (if you're a fan of OOC characters, adding different backstories, and basically fucking around with characters without it technically being an AU then you may want to read it), this was a plot line to one of the movies I imagined Nico being in. I thought it was interesting, so I put it into a story.**

**If I turned this into an original story, it would be in the chapter style of **_**Witch &amp; Wizard**_**, if you've read that series (highly recommended), i.e. short chapter that flit through different points of view.**

**This is part one, because I personally hate lots of really short chapters. If I have them, I tend to do as I have above, and just group them into parts. By pure coincidence, this happened to have ten (not counting the prologue).**

**This is probably going to be quite dark – it's dealing with serious abuse, neglect, bullying and mental disorders, what do you expect? – so if this is currently testing your limits on how 'dark' you want something to go … well, this story probably isn't for you.**

**For those who are wondering, this story is 27 pages on Microsoft Word, Arabic Typesetting, size 20, with narrow margins. It's also 9462 words.**


	2. Welcome Home (Sanatorium)

**A Bed Of Roses – Part Two**

_**Sanitarium (Welcome Home)**_

**Time skip-skip-skippitty-skip-skip a few weeks.**

**Review responses! Yay!**

**I'm not sure if I'll put Nico and Percy together, or anyone together, for that matter. I may, I may not … I will definitely have lots of fluffy brotherly moments between them, but I don't think there's going to be much romance in it. I don't know though. I love Solangelo, so that may be getting in the way of my inner Percico shipper.**

**For those who are wondering, Nico's house looks like the Stone Mansion, found in Alpine New Jersey. Just as extra visual. Percy's looks like a cross between The Crocker Mansion, also in New Jersey, and Longleat, Somerset which I think I mentioned in the previous chapter.**

**Chapter content: Percy and Nico acting like brothers, Jason and Annabeth siblingy fluff, Annabeth character development, some second person stuff and a bit of poetry. That I don't own.**

**This story has drawn inspiration from multiple books and fics: **_**Today I'm Alice**_**, by Alice Jamieson, the fic **_**Roses on Your Grave**_** by RavenTempestShadowhunter, my own twisted imagination, and another fic about Percy and Annabeth that I'm pretty sure has been deleted now. Shame really; it was quite good.**

**WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGERS IN CHAPTER SIXTEEN. IF YOU HAVE AN EATING DISORDER AND ARE EASILY TRIGGERED ****DO NOT READ**

* * *

**Interlude**

* * *

_Welcome to where time stands still.  
No one leaves and no one will.  
Moon is full, never seems to change.  
Just labelled mentally deranged.  
Dream the same thing every night,  
I see our freedom in my sight.  
No locked doors, no windows barred.  
No things to make my brain seem scarred._

_Sleep my friend and you will see:_  
_that dream is my reality._  
_They keep me locked up in this cage,_  
_Can't they see it's why my brain says: Rage?_

_Build my fear of what's out there,_  
_Cannot breathe the open air._  
_Whisper things into my brain,_  
_assuring me that I'm insane._  
_They think our heads are in their hands,_  
_But violent use brings violent plans._  
_Keep him tied, it makes him well._  
_He's getting better, can't you tell?_

_No more can they keep us in._  
_Listen, damn it, we will win!_  
_They see it right, they see it well,_  
_but they think this saves us from our hell._

_Fear of living on,_  
_Natives getting restless now,_  
_Mutiny in the air,_  
_got some death to do._  
_Mirror stares back hard,_  
_kill, it's such a friendly word._  
_Seems the only way,_  
_for reaching out again._

_\- Metallica: Welcome Home._

* * *

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

Annabeth had an after-school club.

It was for those who wanted to learn Mandarin, but didn't have it on their time-tables. Jason, Annabeth knew, had taken Mandarin at this school because his old one had offered a similar club to teach it. Therefore he could take Mandarin at this school.

Annabeth's school had offered something similar, and she was beginning to wish she had gone.

The only problem right now? She couldn't find the classroom.

"Excuse me," she said to a passing boy, "can you tell me where … C31 is?"

The boy nodded and beckoned for her to follow him.

Annabeth looked at him closely. He was tall and unnaturally skinny. He walked like every step pained him, and his messy black hair needed a cut. It fell in one shaggy dark mass to his shoulders and covered up his face.

Annabeth couldn't help but think she recognised him from somewhere.

"Do I know you?" she asked.

The boy's head moved upward slightly as though he had rolled his eyes, and he sighed.

Annabeth ducked her head and blushed.

The boy took a right and started going up the stairs. His fingers were long and pale, like spiders.

Annabeth shuddered. She hated spiders.

Once they had gone up the flight of stairs, they turned right, then right again. On the left hand side of the corridor, opposite the toilets, was a room full of computers.

The boy gestured towards it.

"Thanks," she said. She couldn't shake the feeling that she knew him from someone. "What's your name?"

The boy ran a hand through his hair, revealing his face.

He was surprisingly handsome. Prominent cheekbones, straight nose and jawline, full lips, perfectly arched eyebrows and long, thick eyelashes that framed startlingly green eyes.

Annabeth's breath caught in her throat. She knew him. Her biggest regret related to him.

"Per-," she started, but Percy had already turned and started to walk away.

She ran after him, round the next corner. "Percy, I'm –"

Percy turned to her and glared.

'_What?'_ he seemed to be asking.

Annabeth choked back tears. "I'm _sorry_, Percy."

His eyes lost their glare for a moment, and Annabeth thought maybe, _maybe_, she could make this right.

He reached out and fiddled with one of her curls, as he had done when they were children. "Sorry for what?" he asked.

Annabeth couldn't help but notice how amazing his voice was, gravelly and hoarse though it was.

"Everything," she murmured. "Abandoning you when you needed me most, not listening to you, just being a generally bad friend. I'm so, _so_ sorry, Percy. Please forgive me."

His hand dropped from her hair, and his eyes hardened again. "How about," he whispered, leaning in close to her face, "_no_."

His breath smelt like metal and blood.

Annabeth choked back tears.

Percy turned on his heels and left her standing in the corridor, alone.

Annabeth didn't go to Mandarin that evening. She cried in the toilets instead.

* * *

**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

Nico was waiting outside the school for Percy.

He normally didn't wait this long, but Percy had left something in a classroom and had to go and get it.

"Oi emo!" called a voice.

Nico didn't turn. He heard footsteps behind him, but just waited, staring at the school gates in the hope that Percy would turn up soon.

"Where's your cousin?" said Luke, who was now right behind him. Nico's senses were assaulted by a very familiar smell.

"Hmm?" Nico turned around. Sure enough, Luke's eyes were red-rimmed, and he looked zoned out of everything. "Oh, it's you. Haven't you got anything better to do with your life than stalk twelve-year-old boys?"

"I _said_, where's your cousin?"

Nico looked at him strangely. "In school." He said it like a question. "Otherwise you would have seen him come out, 'cause you're a douchebag who decided smoking pot outside a _school_ was a good idea."

"I'm surprised he's not abandoned you yet."

"Like your father did you?"

Almost immediately, Nico began cursing himself in his head. Why did he have to _constantly_ speak without thinking?! You don't just tell an already-violent person who was high that their father abandoned them!

I mean, he _had_, but that was beside the point.

Luke stared at him for a moment, trying to take it in (Nico was well aware of how drugs screwed with your ability to think and comprehend) before processing what Nico had said. His face screwed up, turning his vaguely handsome features ugly. Then he drew his fist back and punched him in the face.

It was slow and sloppy and Nico very easily could have stopped it, had he been raised in a normal household. But he wasn't, and even watching a boxing match made him flood with paralysing fear.

Nico fought the urge to curl in a ball and cover his head. This was _Luke_, and a drugged-out Luke at that. It wasn't his father. He was in a densely populated area outside a school, not in his kitchen in a large house in the middle of nowhere.

He raised a hand to his face. Blood trickled out of his nose and onto his hand. Nico pinched the bridge of his nose in a vain attempt to slow the bleeding. He barely noticed the pain, he was so used to it.

"Well that was childish," he said thickly. "Didn't daddy ever tell you not to hit people – oh, wait. Daddy left poor Lukie, didn't he?"

Luke howled like an enraged dog and ran towards him, but several students got in front and stopped him. Nico had made sure to speak quietly, so that only Luke could hear him. As far as everyone else was aware, Luke had attacked relatively unprovoked. Sure, Nico may have made a few insults, but they didn't know what those insults were.

Nico felt someone's fingers graze his shoulder. Under had it been anyone else, he probably would have jumped four feet in the air, but he recognised the touch. Very few people managed to put so much pressure, so much meaning, in one feather-light gesture.

"Hey Percy," he said, turning. "Fancy seeing you here."

Percy frowned and his fingers ghosted under Nico's chin. He pried Nico's hand away from his nose and dabbed the blood away with a Kleenex to assess the damage.

Nico rolled his eyes and batted Percy's hand away. "I'm fine."

Percy raised an eyebrow at him like, _'Seriously Dude?'_ and handed him another Kleenex. Nico took it sheepishly.

"What is going on here?!" demanded Mrs Bell, bursting through the crowd.

"He attacked Nico, Mrs Bell!" said a girl, Aoife *, pointing at Luke. She was in Nico's music class. She had long blonde hair and dark grey eyes. She played the violin well, too.

Mrs Bell sniffed. "And what is it that I smell?"

Aoife shrugged. "He was smoking something before he came over. I'd assume it was that."

Percy coughed to catch Mrs Bell's attention. When he did, he pointed over to where Luke was standing, surrounded by his friends. Nico's lips turned upwards in a very small smirk when he realised that the marijuana was still in plain sight.

This would be good.

***Aoife – pronounced Ee-fa.**

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

As soon as Percy and Nico entered their family's private property, they burst into laughter – or the equivalent; Percy's biggest show of emotion was a grin.

Nico leaned against a tree, clutching his side. "That was hilarious!"

Percy nodded, his face stretched into a wide smile Nico barely saw on his cousin anymore. It was a shame; Percy had a really nice smile. A contagious, straight, pearly-white toothed one.

The continued walking back, reminiscing over little details of that and every other time Luke had been busted. Nico reckoned that Percy had spoken more in the following two hours then he had in the past three weeks.

They had a picnic by the river and didn't go home 'til sundown.

Nico's father didn't share his good mood, but Nico managed to climb the vines leading to his bedroom window, leaving his mother to bear the brunt of his father's bad temper.

Nico was used to this, though; his relationship with his mother was a _rather you than me_ one, so he went to sleep with his mood relatively unhindered.

* * *

**Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

Jason, despite not having heard about Nico and Luke's disagreement, was less thoroughly amused by the situation, and the fact that his sister didn't come back until long after her weekday curfew didn't help. It was hard for him to keep his temper around his family sometimes.

Screw that: all the time.

"Where have you _been_?" he hissed at Annabeth as she entered, an hour after she was meant to come back.

"Go _away_, Jason! I'm not in the mood to talk."

Her eyes were red and puffy, he noticed, and she walked with less of a confident air about her.

His face softened. "Hey, Annabeth, do you want to –?"

"Talk?" she said. "No. No I do not want to _talk_. I've just met one of my old best friends who I stabbed in the back and now they won't talk to me and I've gone and blown it! They're probably never going to talk to me again and … and …"

She stopped talking, choking back sobs.

Jason slowly stretched out a hand, unsure of whether she wanted physical contact or not. When she didn't pull away from his touch, her slowly pulled her into a hug. She wrapped his arms around his waist and buried her face in his shoulder as sobs racked her fragile frame. Jason had never noticed how skinny his sister was; he could feel every one of her bones through her clothing.

Despite this, Jason felt an odd sense of comfort flooding through him. He stroked his sister's hair and hummed a song. He didn't know its name, or if it even existed officially, but it was a nice tune*.

It was odd, really, that the only time Jason had felt comfortable with his adopted sister since joining her family was at her weakest moment.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

***Upon thinking this up, I imagined Jason humming something similar to Avenged Sevenfold's Seize The Day. Lovely song. I highly recommend it.**

* * *

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

You can't sleep.

They'll haunt you, you know. Slip into your dreams of better times and corrupt them, just like they corrupt everything else. Tarnish sweet childhood memories and turn them sour until you don't know what's real and what's not anymore.

They do that enough in your waking hours.

You sit, rocking on your bed with your arms around your knees like a small child. That's what you really were, after all; a small child. A small child trapped in a large, scary world on an uneven playing field.

It's windy outside. The branches of the trees are tapping on your window, like out of a movie.

No, it's not a branch. You see a face at the window, smiling grotesquely. No, not smiling. Grinning psychotically. They hold a noose in their hands.

No, not in their hands.

Around their neck.

'_Join us,'_ a voice whispers.

'_No,'_ you say. _'I won't_._'_

The person isn't hanging anymore; they're holding a knife.

'_If you aren't going to join us willingly,'_ the voice says, _'we'll just have to force you.'_

You scramble off the bed as the figure, no longer human, manages to creep through the window you swear you had closed.

You smell blood. It's covering your room: your bed, your skin, your wardrobe, everything. Where did it come from? Where was the figure?

Gone. Gone, gone, gone. Gone like the wind. Gone like the blood.

Taking a deep breath, you stand up again, but the world was spinning. The voices are talking again. Whispering in your ear, replaying events from days, weeks, months, years gone by.

'_Be quiet,'_ you tell them.

'_No,'_ they say.

You don't speak again. You scramble in bed, and lie awake for the rest of the night.

This wasn't a singular occurrence, after all.

* * *

**Chapter Fifteen**

* * *

Nico's father was in a good mood the following morning.

He wasn't as hungover as usual and, if Nico had to guess, he and his mother had finally acted like a married couple for one night.

The thought made him gag.

He was sitting at the island in the large white and wood kitchen*, and beckoned for Nico to come and sit with him. Nico, already halfway through the archway that lead to the main lounge and exit, froze.

"Good morning," Hades said.

"M- Morning," Nico stuttered. In school, he had a reputation for being a confident, if quiet, member of the class. He was a powerful speaker and was voted most likely to become President in a year-wide poll last year. Around his father, though, he was almost a quiet as Percy.

Hades nodded at the raised barstool next him.

Hesitantly, Nico slipped his backpack off and sat on the barstool.

"So," said Hades, ignoring how uncomfortable his son obviously was around him, "looking forward to school?"

Nico shrugged and leaned away from his father in the process. Why didn't he take the other staircase? That would have lead straight to the entrance hallway!

"You're good in school, aren't you?"

Nico shrugged again. "'M okay, 'spose," he mumbled.

"Speak up boy!" his father snapped.

Nico jumped and flinched away. "Yessir," he said, speaking so quickly the two words were merged into one.

Hades smiled. "Coffee? Tea? Toast?"

Nico looked down at his fiddling hands bit his lip. "Coffee," he said, almost inaudibly, "please."

Hades nodded and turned towards the polished wood counter.

Nico pulled out his phone and texted Percy quickly.

_Dad's in a good mood, for some reason_, he typed. _Offered me food and everything. Kind of scared. Come over?_

A moment later, he got a response: _Of course._

Percy was almost as brief when texting as he was in person.

Nico and his father made awkward small talk for about fifteen minutes, before there was a knock at the door.

"I'll get it," said Nico hurriedly, jumping off of the stool and running towards the door. Anything to get away from his father.

He wrestled with the key for a moment (it stuck easily) and yanked the door open. Sure enough, there stood his elder cousin, dressed in a spotless Vance High uniform. Nico always wondered how Percy managed to do that, considering how muddy the path from his house to Nico's could get. Nico invariably ended up with mud splattered up the back of his trousers.

Percy raised an eyebrow at him.

Nico jerked his head towards the kitchen. "He's in there," he said. He turned and yelled: "It's Percy!"

"Invite him in, then!" his father replied.

Nico stood aside and let Percy walk in.

Percy nodded at him, smiling ever-so-slightly. It was the kind of barely-there muscle twitch you saw from people walking down the street who were reminiscing fondly to themselves, but not trying to show it. The kind you didn't notice unless you were looking closely.

There were a lot of things about Percy you didn't notice unless you looked closely. About the entire family, even.

Percy's luminescent green eyes scanned the entrance hall of the house before entering more than two steps, the way he always did. Percy was predictable in that sense.

Nico followed him like a lost puppy towards the kitchen, half hidden behind his older and larger cousin.

Hades set out three cups of coffee on the island table. Nico avoided looking at his dad, mumbled "thanks" and didn't so much as touch his coffee.

Percy craned his neck around the kitchen, looking at the 32-inch T.V set in the opposite wall. He turned back to Hades and raised an eyebrow. _'Fox News?'_ he seemed to be asking. _'Really?'_

Percy had always hated Fox News. Nico just found the channel funny. His father, though, took it deadly serious.

He also didn't notice Percy expression.

After a few awkward minutes of Hades trying to make small talk with the two of them – the only responses came timidly from Nico, who looked like he just wanted to sink into the floor – Percy stood up soundlessly. He nodded curtly at Hades and quickly, emotionlessly, drained his coffee.

Nico wasn't sure whether or not that was typical or not: Percy hated milky coffee, but his expression rarely changed at all. Maybe it was typical: Percy was typically untypical.

Nico only took about half a second to get up after him, managing to trip over the stool as well as his own feet in his rush to get away from his dad.

He pushed his untouched coffee towards his dad and practically sprinted after his cousin.

He didn't notice Hades sad eyes following him, as he realised, finally, that any chance of anything vaguely similar to a positive, proper father-son relationship between the two of them had long since passed.

* * *

**Interlude**

* * *

_I know you hear their voices,  
__Calling from above.  
__And I know they may seem real,  
__These signal of love.  
__But our life's made up of choices,  
__Some without appeal.  
__They took for granted you soul,  
__And it's ours now to steal.  
_\- Avenged Sevenfold: Nightmare.

_Mental wounds not healing,  
__Life's a bitter shame.  
__Mental wounds still screaming,  
__Driving me insane.  
__Mental wounds not healing,  
__Who and what's to blame?  
_\- Ozzy Osbourne: Crazy Train.

_Give me a reason to turn and run.  
__Give me a reason to burn this house down  
__Give me a reason, I wish you would.  
__I wish you would,  
__Wish you would.  
__Give me a reason for disaster,  
__And I'll be happy ever after.  
__Give me a reason, I wish you would.  
__I wish you would.  
__Wish you would.  
_\- Three Days Grace: Give Me A Reason

* * *

**Chapter Sixteen**

**WARNING: POSSIBLE TRIGGER. IF YOU SUFFER FROM AN EATING DISORDER AND ARE EASILY TRIGGERED ****DO NOT READ!**

* * *

Annabeth stood in front of the mirror, frowning. There were still remnants of condensation on it after her shower, but she could see clearly enough.

She sucked her gut in tightly, but it still seemed to protrude far too much for her liking.

In truth, Annabeth was very skinny. Unhealthily so, in fact, but no matter how much weight she lost, her figure never matched up to the one in her head.

'_Hey Chubby,'_ the mirror seemed to be saying. _'How long is it going to take you to lose all that ugly-ass flab you have? You wanna stay a size 2 forever?'_ *

'_No,'_ she thought. _'I don't.'_

She was out of control, and she didn't even know it. All she wanted was to be thin; to match that perfect image of what she wanted to be in her mind. It was hard, but she would achieve it. She would. She had failed too much in life; she at least wanted to succeed in being beautiful.

'_You don't need food,'_ she told herself. Food didn't give her energy; willpower gave her energy.

She ran a hand over her bare stomach. In truth, Annabeth had a naturally flat stomach a lot of girls would kill for, but it wasn't flat enough for her.

'_Just to be safe,'_ she told herself. _'You don't need that sandwich anyway.'_

It rumbled loudly.

'_Screams of dying fat,'_ she told herself. Dying fat was good; regular fat wasn't. Fat wouldn't go without a fight, though; that was why it hurt. There was nothing wrong with her at all. She was just being healthy.

Her hipbones were sharp. She rapped them with her knuckles, and she could hear them. That was good. Hipbones are beautiful. She was nearly there.

But she wasn't. Not really. Every time she lost a pound, she wanted to lose two more. She would never be perfect, but she had to try.

'_You have to,'_ she told herself.

She didn't want one more failure to add to her list.

***This will sound weird to my fellow Brits, I think, but size 2 in America is size 6 in Britain. Size 0 is size 4, size 3 is size 8 etc.***

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Annabeth decided to go to school at the same time as Jason today. It was odd that this happened; her mother, Helen, would insist Annabeth finish all of her food. She couldn't, but it made her feel better to stretch the portion out over a long period of time. She felt like less of a pig.

She also threw it all back up shortly afterwards, but it helped beforehand, she supposed.

"Jason!" she called. "Wait up!"

Jason turned, looking bewildered.

Annabeth felt bad for the way she had treated him. She really did. She had taken the piss out of him for being adopted, being abused, hating his family. She hated him too, in a way. He was a reminder of what had happened to her. A reminder of the life before Fredrick and Helen. The life that caused her to despise her body, no matter how thin it got.

Fredrick and Helen weren't very good parents. But they wanted to be. So she gave them credit for that: despite all their faults, the two had never made Annabeth, nor the twins, feel unwanted.

Annabeth had had enough experience with being unwanted for a lifetime.

"What?" Jason asked.

"I just wanted to walk with you for once," she said defensively. "You're my brother."

Surprise flickered across his face, along with another emotion that Annabeth couldn't place. She didn't like that; not being able to place things. She was OCD, after all.

They walked to school together, side by side, and for once they felt like normal siblings. Annabeth liked the feeling. She made a mental note to walk with Jason more often.

* * *

**Chapter Seventeen**

* * *

You always were an odd child. Incredibly and almost impossibly intelligent, yet too quiet for people to notice. You hated people with black hair and loved those with brown. Blue eyes good, green eyes bad. Man is the cruellest of animals, woman the kindest. You never took part in class discussions, preferring to sit at the back with your copy of _Animal Farm_, despite the fact that you were far too young to understand the true meaning of the book. To your innocent self, it was merely a story of animals taking over a farm and the pigs not running it right. There was no meaning, no deeper purpose, nothing beyond the superficial.

It didn't take long for all of that to disappear. Your childish naivety was lost long before anyone else's, and you felt all the more isolated because of it. Imagine your shock, your pleasure, your disgust, when you found someone else who was the same.

The little blonde girl didn't judge you the way everyone else did. She looked at you the same way she did everyone else; guarded, weary, tired. It was refreshing, to see it aimed at people other than yourself.

"What's your name?" you asked her.

She blinked her wide eyes at you, and paused a moment.

"I don't know," she said. "I have lots. I have none."

At that moment, you knew you'd found someone who could relate.

The similarities between the two of you only became more pronounced with time; women were good. So were blue eyes. Men were bad, and so was black hair.

You hated, and indeed still hate, your hair. Black as pitch, never cared for, just like the rest of you. It was all so obvious, if you looked at it properly. The neglect, the abuse, the trauma, the mental illness, the hate. So much hate and so little time. So many words yet so few read. So many calls, yet so few responses. So little love, yet so much apathy.

Your friend was the same.

Maybe it was why you got on so well.

* * *

**Chapter Eighteen**

* * *

Jason thought Ethan Nakamura was, to put it simply, a bastard.

All he wanted to do was get hammered, get stoned, and live off of his family's money for the rest of his life. Jason didn't want that; his trust fund from his biological parents and his adopted ones may be gigantic, but he didn't want to dip into it unless absolutely necessary. In an ideal world, he's pass that trust fund onto his own children, except with more money added to it. He didn't understand complacency; how you could _not_ want to make yourself better in all possible ways.

Yes, Jason Grace was a perfectionist. How nice of you to notice.

Ethan sighed as they walked towards the IT classroom, Jason walking smartly with his head held high in a way his father, both adopted and biological, would be proud of, and Ethan slouching and dragging his feet in a way that would've gotten Jason cuffed round the head.

"I don't want to go to class," Ethan whined.

"Then don't," replied Jason, grinding his teeth.

'_Why am I friends with this guy again?'_ he asked himself. _'Oh, right – because you abandoned your other friends.'_

Jason was pretty sure, by now, that he had made the wrong choice in choosing Ethan and Luke over Nico and Percy, but it was too late to change things now. He'd just have to deal with it.

"The come with me!"

"I don't want overly-clingy girlfriend; I don't need you stepping into that position for me."

"I can't just skip class alone!"

"Maybe," Jason said, using his shoulder to push open one of the double doors leading to the IT labs, "you shouldn't be skipping class at all."

Ethan glared at him. "You just don't know how to have fun is all."

"My idea of fun is different to yours," Jason deadpanned.

"Whatever," Ethan mumbled. Then he perked up. "Hey, look who it is."

Jason looked to where Ethan was gesturing and his eyes widened. _'Oh fuck no.'_

It was Nico, carrying a large stack of red physics books - presumably as a favour for a teacher. They were late as it was, so there was no-one else on the corridor, and there were no classrooms on it either.

"Oi Emo!" called Ethan.

Nico sighed and looked at him. "Can't you think of any insult more creative than 'Emo'? I know you're intellectually challenged and all, but it isn't too hard. If you put a few days' work into it, you might actually come up with something half-decent."

Jason resisted the urge to snicker, but Ethan went bright red in anger. "What did you just say to me?" he demanded.

Nico sighed again, louder. "I said that your insult was stupid. It's not a hard concept to grasp. You may not know what _'concept'_ means, though; I think it's a word a little beyond your intellectual capabilities to grasp."

Jason sucked his lips in to resist the urge to grin, but Ethan stormed angrily toward the much smaller boy and pinned him to the wall by his collar. The books went spilling across the floor. Quickly, Jason began gathering them back up. It was more of an excuse not to look than anything.

"You're a right little shit, y'know?" muttered Ethan, slamming Nico into the wall again. "Need to be taught a bit of resect, dontcha?"

Jason wasn't looking, but he could detect a grim smile in Nico's words. "I give respect to those who earn it," he replied, just as quietly. "I don't see why a future drop-out who's going to blow his family's money on drugs is worth my respect."

Ethan threw him to the floor and dropped himself so that his elbow, with his entire bodyweight behind it, fell on Nico's stomach.

Nico curled onto his side, clutching his midsection and wheezing.

"Leave the faggot's books, Jason," Ethan muttered, grabbing Jason by the crook of his elbow. "We should get to class."

Jason nodded and followed him, guiltily. But when he looked behind him, he saw that Nico had already gotten back up and was on his way down the opposite hallway with the books.

It was becoming an awful lot harder to not hate himself.

**_/_/_/_-_/_/_/_**

Jason leant against the wall at the end of the road, near his school, waiting for Annabeth. He liked walking with his sister, he had decided. It was a nice sibling bonding experience.

"Hey," said a voice. A distinctly male voice. That wasn't what he was looking for.

He looked up. Blonde hair, blue eyes, odd scar down his face. Luke. Whoop-de-doo.

Jason nodded at him and looked away, hoping Luke would take the hint that he didn't want to talk right now. No such luck.

"So how's life in Little Ole Maine doing for ya?" asked Luke casually.

"Okay," said Jason. "Mom and Dad have lightened up a bit, which is good, and I have more friends."

Not a lie, really. But friends … well, he seemed to have chosen quantity over quality in that section.

Luke nodded. "That's cool."

Jason nodded.

"So, what was it like being friends with Percy and Nico?"

Jason looked at him suspiciously. There was no note of disdain or disgust in his voice, nor did he seem particularly judgemental, which seemed odd. Then again, Jason had yet to hear Luke ever mention Percy or Nico at all, and if the three had ever had a disputes, Jason hadn't been there.

That didn't mean he wanted to talk to Luke about them.

"Quiet," he decided on.

Luke laughed lightly. "Yeah, they don't really talk much. I don't really know what happened to the two of 'em."

"You three have a history?"

Luke nodded. "We were great friends in about sixth grade. I don't know what happened, but now … well … we don't get on well. I started branching out, getting more confident, getting involved in more things. Nico and Percy … something happened, and as I've said I don't know what, that really changed them. They did the exact opposite of what I did, and now they barely talk at all, and there are rumours going round that they've got some kind of mental problem. I want to help them, but I don't know how."

Jason ducked his head in agreement. Maybe Luke wasn't so bad after all.

"Jason!" called another voice, except it was female this time.

"Hey 'Beth!" he called back. He looked back at Luke regretfully. "Sorry to cut this conversation off early, but …"

"It's cool," said Luke, waving a hand towards Annabeth. "You go right ahead. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"See you then," Jason agreed. He walked over to Annabeth, and they walked home together.

* * *

**Chapter Nineteen**

* * *

Nico's day had been shit. He had already confirmed with Percy that he would stay at his for the night; his father was rarely in a good mood and, seeing as his stomach hurt enough from what Ethan had done earlier, he wasn't in much of a mood to make the rest of his body level with that, _thank you very much_. He crept into his house, padding across the white stone tiles to change his books, hoping he wouldn't run into his mum or dad. Really, it was times like this he wondered why he didn't keep his books in his locker at school.

Oh wait, it was because people always broke into it. That was why.

Fortune was on his side, it appeared, for he managed to rush up to his bedroom, grab all his books for the next day (and homework due in for the next week) and rush outside without being caught.

He didn't see his dad watching him, though.

Hades di Angelo was an odd character, to say the least. Despite what many had said, both behind his back and to his face, he was very intelligent. The whole family were. But he had made mistakes in life – big ones, huge ones – that had put all potential he had on hold. Hades di Angelo was not typical in many circles, but he was a cookie-cutter member of the Olympia family. Intelligent, handsome, charming, charismatic, insecure, tortured, abused, abusive, emotionally unstable. Insane, even. Some was nature, other bits nurture. Some bits both.

But there was one adjective that put all of Hades di Angelo into true perspective.

Bitter.

His own father had been no better than he was. He had stifled all sense of originality, of positivity, of rebellion, out of his son. Hades had felt bitter about that at the time; surely, other children weren't treated like this? Surely he deserved better? Surely, he could achieve more than his father had told him he would?

But no. As Hades grew older, his father got worse. He couldn't study, his grades got lower, and by age seventeen he had dropped out of school and was living alone at the other end of Maine, as far away from his father as he could. Ideally, Hades would have moved across the country, maybe even internationally (he'd heard London was a good place to be a millionaire) but he _knew_ Maine. It was the only certainty he had. While his father may not have been the best, his cousin Poseidon had always been there to talk to him (he'd lived just down the road) and, even though he rarely saw his cousin Zeus, they got on well when they did meet. He didn't want to give all that up.

He met Maria, and she was the most wonderful women he had ever seen. They married only a few months after meeting, and even though it had been fifteen years of a tumultuous marriage, Hades knew he was still as in love with her now as he had been nearing sixteen years ago.

He had been a good husband, and later a good father, at first. He pledged to himself that he would never, ever, be like his father, or his uncle. He wouldn't stoop that low.

But things changed, and now … Hades couldn't even look at himself in the mirror.

He had tried a few times in the past to get clean – for his son, for his wife, even for his cousin who had gone down the exact same road as him and the one that had gone down another – but to no avail. His track record was marked by violence, self-hate, overdoses and relapses, and things had never gotten any better.

His first wakeup call had been when he had received a message from an old one-night-stand, Marie, informing him that he was about to have yet another child, apart from the two he had already had. Hades hadn't argued when Marie had said she didn't want him in the child's life, but he had been sent, and sent, Christmas and birthday cards, and had never missed one child support payment. There had been worse absent fathers, he supposed.

Hades didn't want to stay out of his new child's life forever, though, and tried to get clean so that he could make a vaguely presentable figure when he did finally get the guts to meet her. His resolve had broken within a month.

The next came with the announcement that his eldest daughter had been killed in a plane crash. That phase had lasted almost an entire year before he relapsed, but at least he had been there when his son needed him the most.

The latest one … well, maybe it was just a small one, the kind that lasted just for a week (there had been quite a few), but Hades realised that the one remaining child he had in his life was growing up. Nico wouldn't be here forever, and he wanted the last few years of his son being here before he left for university to be filled with vaguely happy memories. He couldn't undo all the damage that had been done – to his body, his son, his wife and other family members – but maybe he'd be able to see his grandchildren, or get a few Christmas cards in the future.

That opportunity had come and gone, though, it appeared.

Hades wanted to cry.

His first instinct was to go to the alcohol cabinet, but he refused to let himself. There may be a slim possibility of repairing his relationship with his son, and the longer he left it, the slimmer it got. He wouldn't jeopardise it more than he already had.

'_You'll try to do this on your own,'_ he told himself. _'If you relapse or anything, _ever_, you go to rehab.'_

Resolve firmed once again, Hades set out to turn his life around. He hoped it would work this time.

* * *

**End Part Two**

* * *

**So … I couldn't think of a way to end it with a nice round twenty chapters, but I figured the interludes kind of made up a chapter. Oh, and I think I mentioned this before, but the interludes don't belong to me.**

**On a completely different note, and I know I'm a bit late to the party here, but who was surprised about the British General Election results? Do you think it turned out well?**

**~ DD**


	3. Vengeance is Mine (PREVIEW!)

**THIS IS A PREVIEW OF THE CHAPTER. IT IS NOT THE FULL THING.**

**I'm just using this as a way to show you which direction the story is going to take - maybe - and so that you can give me some constructive criticism. If you have any other plot ideas, go ahead and leave them in a review - I read them all, and I appreciate all ideas coming my way. I may use them, I may not - I have changed my mind about fifty million times as to which direction each story is going to take before I've so much as wrote the first chapter, so ... **

**Either way, have fun, drop a review, and maybe do one of the polls (mentioned in the A/N below).**

**~ DD**

* * *

**A Bed of Roses – Part Three  
**_**Don't Fear the Reaper (Vengeance is Mine)**_

**Just for a general thing, I have a poll on my profile for my fellow Brits on the General Election results – I'm just curious as to what most people think. That being said, if you're not British, you're welcome to post on it as well. **

**~ DD**

* * *

**Interlude**

* * *

_They hated every part of me  
__Expect me to forget it  
__They tried so hard to bury me  
__But I survived it every time  
__Convicted of every crime  
__Silently doing time  
__But when I get outta here  
__I wanna make it clear  
__Vengeance is mine  
__To forgive is divine  
__But vengeance is mine, mine, mine.  
__They tortured every inch of me  
__Then expect me to forget it  
__They thought that they would finish me  
__But I pull through every time  
__Punish me everyday  
__But I'll never break  
__Hold on to all your fears  
__'cause when I get outta here  
__Vengeance is mine  
__To forgive is divine  
__Not as rewarding I find  
__Because vengeance is mine ...  
__\- Alice Cooper: Vengeance is Mine_

_All our times have come  
__Here, but now they're gone  
__Seasons don't fear the reaper  
__Nor do the wind, the sun or the rain  
__\- Blue Oyster Cult: Don't Fear the Reaper_.

* * *

**Chapter Twenty**

* * *

He is smoking in an alley.

Your lip curls sadistically. How typical. He wasn't that much of an odd type really; he liked to think himself a rebel, an anarchist, a leader, but he wasn't. Just like everyone else in this godforsaken town, he was a rich, pampered white child that never did anything outside of the social norms – smoking weed, staying out late, skipping school occasionally or not doing homework, going to parties and getting drunk.

There are two types of rich, pampered children, you know. Just over half of them are the good kind; the ones that make use of their private schools and top-of-the-line facilities, the ones that grow up to get jobs as accountant, or CEOs, or Congressmen/women, the ones that give their children the same wealthy lifestyle and expect them to follow in their footsteps.

And then … there are the others.

The ones like the boy in front of you.

The ones that rebel against the money, against the claustrophobia of being in the public eye constantly, against society's expectations of them. The ones that are the family member no-one likes to acknowledge, the ones that are shunned. They throw every bit of privilege given to them away, throw it back in the faces of their parents, of their grandparents, of that ancestor that _somewhere_ down the line had come from nothing. The ones that spit at and reject everything that someone would kill to have.

And that was how freedom _worked._

You could accept everything, make it better, start a company and give other families the mean to feed themselves, pay extortionate amounts of tax money to uphold the standard of living for the less fortunate - you could be _productive_ \- or you could throw it away.

It was despicable, what some people did.

Then again, what you were about to do was as well, you suppose.

_Sometimes it's necessary to be despicable_.

He hasn't noticed you yet.

_He didn't notice much._

No, he doesn't.

_If he did, maybe he'd have seen this coming._

It wasn't hard.

_Not really._

Nope.

Your eyes flicker from side to side. You had checked if there were any cameras around here earlier, but it never hurts to be that little bit more careful, does it? You're about to prove that. Maybe if he had been a bit more careful, he could have avoided this. Maybe. Perhaps. Probably. Okay, maybe not. You would've found a way, no matter what. You were nothing if not determined.

What is life without determination, after all? No drive to do anything, no drive to make the world a better place, no reason to keep living. That is what kept the human race going, really: that strive for perfection.

But perfection is unattainable. You know that. You can never be perfect, and it haunts you, hurts you, every time you remember it.

_Enough dillydallying_, you scold yourself. You've dragged this out enough.

How long had you been standing here, turning the metal over in your hands, contemplating the inner workings of the universe and the meaning of life, without him noticing? You were distracted easily. Too easily. Far too easily.

How long would it take?

Your mind quickly flashes through several measurement. He was about ten meters away. Your average stride length was about seventy centimetres. No – you have longer legs than most people. Make that seventy five. If you ran, it would be more like eighty. No, that's a jog. An explosive start would be more like a metre and something. Make it a metre and ten. Okay, nine strides to get there. You would probably manage one hundred and fifty strides to a hundred and sixty strides in a minute. One-fifty-five divided by sixty …. Two point five-eight-three-three-three recurring. Two point six. Two point six times nine …. Twenty three point four. Twenty three seconds to get there.

_Too slow._

There was no way that was right. Where had you gone wrong with that ….?

Of course.

Sixty divided by one-fifty-five … nought-point-three-eight-seven-zero-nine … times ten is three-point-eight.

Near enough four.

_Still too slow._

You creep closer. Nine metres … eight metres … seven …. six … five …

You can't risk it. Any closer and even someone as oblivious as him would notice him. Point-three-eight times five … one point nine. Near enough two seconds.

_Much better_.

Your eyes scan around again, fixing on your escape route for when you've done. There were no cameras there, and you had a change of clothes, plus a duffle bag. Run home, burn what you can and hide the rest.

Easy as pie, _n'est pas?_

Once more, your eyes glide round, checking for the fiftieth time that a) there are no witnesses, and b) that you haven't been noticed.

Nope. There's no-one.

Or rather, there wouldn't be.

Your pupils were pretty dilated, considering the current light levels, but somehow they manage to widen even more. You feel your breathing and heart rate speed up, and your entire body tensed. You can hear the blood thumping in your ears, and time seems to slow down.

Bam!

Your calculations were wrong; it takes you less than two seconds to reach him.

Your mind rushes with all you've read on this. You could go for several places; the femoral artery through the abdomen/thigh; the chest cavity; the throat or even the back. You need to avoid the splatter, though. That may be a problem.

Never mind; he didn't have the time to turn around.

You grab him, placing one hand over his mouth. He gives a surprised squeak. After a tenth of a second pause, you plug his nose. He can't breathe.

His trembling body is pressed against yours. He's a lot bigger than you, you notice, almost absently. You already knew that – most of the time, this situation was in the reverse.

It would be a little less life-and-death then, though.

Your knife plunges into his abdomen, and you can feel the sudden build-up of pressure in your fingers as he attempts to scream.

Readjusting your grip on the knife, you yank it upwards, drawing one long, thick line straight up his torso, as though you were trying to cut him in half lengthways.

He goes limp.

You drop him face first in the ground.

That had been quicker than he had thought. The entire process may have taken three to five seconds at most.

You tense up once again as you realise that the most difficult part by far was _far_ from over, and give the area a quick three-sixty. No-one. There's just the roar of the distant traffic whose glow is just visible over the tops of the abandoned houses, and the far-away sound of the music and laughter typical of the local pub **(*)** at this hour.

Other than that, it's deathly silent.

No, there's a crash.

Tensing up, you spin round, all sorts of excuses on your lips, ranging from the immediate _"It wasn't me! I swear!"_ to the ever-so-slightly later reaction of bursting into tears.

It's just a cat. A mangy black one. It had knocked over one of the bins **(*)**.

You smile thinly at it.

"You had me scared there, little guy."

You walk slightly closer to it.

It hisses at you.

You back away.

You need to go now.

Just as you're about to leave, you see the abandoned cigarette and its lighter, discarded in the alleyway.

Smirking, you pick it up the cigarette with your thickly gloved hands and light it, before throwing it on the body.

As for the cigarette lighter … you slip it into your pocket, smirking. You can keep it as a treasure.

It'll just get hidden with the knife.

And with that, you stalk away out of the alley.

* * *

**Is it wrong that this is arguably the most fun I've ever had when writing a chapter? I love these kinds of chapters. I love writing about horror and murder, and I love adding that little element of insanity to each one I write about. If you research mental disorders, you'll find that skipping from one line of thought to another very quickly is a common symptom, along with speaking oddly (i.e. very quickly, or about nonsense) and, seeing as there's very little dialogue, I can only really put the random thought skips in there.**

**That actually kind of concerns me; that's how I think on a regular basis. You know, skipping from one point to another when they have seemingly no connection.**

**(*) – These are British terms, and I don't know if Americans or people of other nationality will get them. I'm trying to not put British words in this, seeing as it's set in America, but I can't help myself. So … get used to it.**

**Either way, onto the next bit.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-one**

* * *

Nico noticed the change in his dad surprisingly quickly, all things considered.

He got up especially early in the morning, earlier than Nico – pretty early, seeing as Nico got up at five – just to make breakfast and talk.

Nico was pretty tense at first, and barely said anything, but now … well, he wouldn't say it was quite 'comfortable', but it was almost there.

He wasn't sure quite how he felt about it.

His father didn't deserve forgiveness, not after everything that had happened, but if he was making an effort … did Nico really want to shut his father out of his life for good?

As bitter and hurt as he was over his lost childhood, Nico didn't want that.

Plus, he couldn't help but remember the occasional fond memory he had of his father. The swing sets, the laughter, the shoulder he cried on when Bianca died. They were drastically outweighed by the others, but if he was trying … Nico wouldn't begrudge him that.

_Tap, tap, tap._

"Percy's here," said Nico.

"Let him in," said Hades – _Dad._ That was what he had insisted Nico call him.

Nico got up walked over to the door.

When he opened it up, though, it wasn't Percy. It was the police. Two of them.

"Excuse me, sir," one of them, the taller one, a middle-aged woman, "do you have a moment?"

Nico nodded and opened the door. "Do you want me to get my dad?"

"If we could talk with you and your father, that would be good," said the shorter one, an older male.

Nico nodded and ran into the kitchen.

"Where's Percy?" asked Hades.

"It wasn't him," said Nico. "It's some people from the Law Enforcement … they want to talk to you. Me. Us."

Hades frowned but got up and walked into the reception.

"Good morning," he said. "Isn't it rather early to be making calls at peoples' houses?"

The lady laughed lightly. "Yes, in a sense. However, we were wondering if we may talk to you and your son. Would that be too much trouble?"

"Of course not," said Hades. "Anything to help the police." He gestured to the kitchen. "We were just having breakfast. Do you want anything? Coffee, toast?"

"Coffee please," said the lady.

The man declined.

"Are you sure?" said Hades, looking at the man. "Not even a water?"

He agreed to have a water.

"How do you take your coffee?"

"Black, two sugars."

"I'll be back in a moment. Would you show them the reception please, Nico?"

"Sure thing, Dad," Nico responded. His mind flashed back to the talk he'd had with Miss Hoban. Had she told the police? Is that what they were here for? He hoped they weren't, but, if they were, he wanted to show them that he was in a loving home. Wekk, he wasn't, not really, but he _wanted_ it to be, and this may be the last chance he could get. He didn't want to have it torn away from him, not after it had become so close to coming true. "This way, please."

The reception was the opposite way from the kitchen off of the entrance hallway. It was a large but overall plain room; there was a fireplace that was rarely lit, a large oak table with twelve or thirteen chairs and a few pictures scattered around the room.

Nico had always loved this room, but the reason why wasn't obvious at first.

In his humble opinion, the true masterpiece that made up the room were the marble pillars that bordered it. They were tall and engraved with some of the most beautiful images Nico could imagine. They were so intricate, the details down to a T – Nico couldn't imagine anything better.

They extended all the way up to the ceiling, but Nico couldn't see what they were like all the way up there. He wanted to, though. He imagined they'd be beautiful, like the rest of the room.

Nico wanted to do something like that. To make something so beautiful and intricate, something that would adorn buildings and homes for years to come, something that would show something. He just didn't know quite what form it would take.

"If you just want to take a seat, Dad should be in soon," was all he said, though, gesturing to the table.

They both agreed, and sat down in one of the chairs.

Nico sat down too.

They sat in silence for a moment, before the woman spoke up.

"Nico – may I call you Nico?"

He nodded.

"Nico, dear, do you know why we're here?"

Nico shook his head.

"Have you watched the news this morning?"

Nico shook his head again. "I've read the newspaper, but …"

"Ah, that explains it." The lady nodded.

Nico realised that he didn't know her name – nor the man's. He would feel rude asking, though, and so he remained quiet.

"Why?" he asked. "What happened?"

If he should have known about it from the news, it was unlikely to be something to do with his dad. That was a relief.

But what if it was about Percy? He glanced at his $300 watch. It was a bit earlier than Percy usually turned up, but maybe he wouldn't be coming …

The lady took something out of her pocket. "Do you know this boy?"

With fingers that trembled almost unnoticeably, Nico took the piece of paper.

It wasn't Percy, thank God.

"Yeah," said Nico. "That's Ethan Nakamura. Why?"

"He was reported missing late yesterday," the man informed him. His voice was low and gravelly. It didn't suit him, wiry and wrinkly as he was.

Hades came in a moment later, with three coffee mugs in his hands.

"Hot, hot, hot," he muttered, placing one down in front of Nico, the lady and himself respectively. "I'll just go and get the water."

He left again.

Nico's eyes found their way back to Ethan's sullen face, and he couldn't bring himself to feel sorrow.

He cleared his throat. "What does this have to do with me?"

"We were wondering if you had any idea as to where he is," said the woman.

Nico was just shaking his head as his father walked back in with four glasses and a jug of water.

"Here we go," he said, sitting down. "What do you need to talk about?"

"Sir," said the lady, "would you happen to know who this boy is?"

Nico took a sip of his coffee. It was scalding hot and burnt his tongue. He didn't mind, though; he wasn't a big coffee fan as it was. He just didn't have the heart to tell his dad, who was putting in such an effort.

Hades took the picture contemplatively. "Not really, but I'd assume one of the Nakamuras? He has the eyes. I'd assume the youngest."

The lady nodded. "Ethan Nakamura. He was reported missing late last night. It's unknown at exactly what time he went missing, though."

Hades rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Okay. Why come here, though?"

"Your son's in a few of his classes. He had an argument with his parents before going missing, so we thought he may have taken refuge at a friend's house."

Nico felt a laugh bubbling up in his throat. "Ethan and I are not quite _friends_, ma'am. _Acquaintances_ is a stretch. Please believe me when I say that, of all places, he would never come _here_."

The lady nodded. "Understandable, I suppose. From what we heard from the other people we've questioned, Ethan wasn't the most likeable of boys."

"Not in the slightest."


End file.
